The Sign

Sep15

(Sometimes I write entire posts and then for no good reason forget to publish them. This was written at the end of August as we were getting ready for the school year to start.)

Our three girls have been sharing two rooms divided up as a “sleeping room” and a “playing room.” It was a great summer arrangement. They read books to each other at bedtime and woke each other up early to play. It was like a perpetual slumber party and there was no way it was going to work when Ivy went back to school.

And so, with school looming, we have executed another big room rearrange to help insure that kids who need to go to bed can fall asleep and kids who don’t need to wake up extra early stay asleep. Of course, this means Ivy has her own room for the time being and she is very proud of it. Many times I have been called upstairs to see her new improvements.

Then I was called up to look at her door.

On the door was a sign informing me that it would now cost a dollar to enter her room. I chuckled, decided to wait and watch how that worked out for her and went to Clara and Jane’s room instead.

Ivy followed me in while gleefully informing me that I’d have to pay her a dollar if I wanted to tuck her in that night. I seriously replied that while I love tucking her in she’d have to settle for me blowing a kiss from the door if the charge was a dollar.

Ivy left.

Moments later she was back, “Now come see mom!”

If you wod like to com in my room you will have't to giv me a dollar quarter

If you wod like to come in my room you will have’t to giv me a ~~doller~~ Quarter

I laughed and went downstairs.

That afternoon John overheard the girls talking, looked at me in incredulity and said, “Is Ivy shaking her sisters down for quarters?!?” I explained the sign on the door and slowly followed as he went up to investigate. As I lurked upstairs I overheard him explaining mortgages, sublets and requesting cuts of the profit.

I giggled and went downstairs.

Soon I was called to look at Ivy’s door yet again:

Please Knock

At which time I happily knocked and was welcomed into the new room for the first time all day.

The Third One is the Loud One

Jun19

In my experience you teach the first child manners.

You teach them how to sign please before they can speak it. By the time they talk they ask for things with complete sentences and when they tell stories, (so many stories) it is done in a fairly normal, if excited, speaking voice.

The second child you try. But the first child is “helping” by making up pretend signs that change minute to minute so the sign language thing never really catches on. And your hands are so full with the first child’s polite, but attention seeking stories, that so long as the second child says what they want instead of sitting and wailing until you figure it out, you no longer care exactly how the information is presented.

The third child, the third child is loud.

As the first child continues to jabber on night and day, the second continues with her demands and the third is left with only one option -loud.

Polite, but loud.

Granny tries to tell Jane that you should be quiet when you go fishing.

Full sentences, at top volume.

Stories, just as many stories as that first child, but louder ones.

Songs, all sung at top volume.

(Yes, I know the video is sideways, please tell me if you know how to fix it!)

And you try, you really try to pay attention to them when they ask for something the first time, when it might be in a nice normal voice. But, you are the mother of three and, inevitably, you miss it. The over shadowed and ignored third child defaults back to loud and you finally respond. The behavior is rewarded, you sigh because you know what you just contributed to, again, and the third child continues to be loud.

Granny’s advice is ignored.

Happy – but loud.

Yes, in my experience, the third one is the loud one.

Empty Threats

Apr14

After threatening to stay up all night if one of her sisters couldn’t sleep with her in her room, Ivy then told me that I had to let her get up and color or she wouldn’t be able to stay up all night.

Nice try girl.

Nice try.

In other news: Jane told me she couldn’t go to sleep because the trees were cold.

Then Jane told me she desperately needed yet another sip of water for her parched throat that was possibly, but not likely, dry from the enormous amount of talking and yelling she had been doing or there would be no way she could ever fall asleep. Or at least I’m sure that’s what, when translated out of two year old speak, she was attempting to convey.

I said, “No.”

I said, “You’ve already had enough water.”

I said, “You have to go to sleep now!”

Then she whined and complained and got out of bed and caused general havoc while making noises at decibels that were without a doubt contributing to the aforementioned parched throat as well as threatening to wake her siblings.

I said, “OK! FINE! I’m getting the water.”

*sigh*

Nice try Mom.

Nice try.

The Future

Jan16

When your job is a stay at home mom it’s a bit of a conversation stopper. Too many bodily fluids to be glamorous. Too many people do it to be unique. Too many interruptions from the kids to have a conversation about anything anyway. No matter how important I feel my job is, there are certainly many who don’t actually see it as a “job” at all. And there is no denying that the longer I’m out of the “real” workforce, the more difficult it will become to ever get a “real” job that relates at all to what I once went to school for.

And I’m ok with that.

When I imagine my future, I see visions goats and orchards (and yes I know those are totally incompatible) rather than a 8 -5 work week. But, honestly, I don’t spend much time thinking about it. All my brain power is currently allocated to figuring out what to eat for dinner, how to keep the kids from strangling each other and desperately searching out small chunks of time to nap in.

Little did I know that my eldest does not share my laissez-faire attitude toward my future career. While enjoying a rare evening alone with Ivy, she brought the subject up.

Ivy: “So, what kind of job do you think you are going to do when we all get older and build our own houses.”

Me:” I’m not sure, I might have to wait and see. What do you think?”

Ivy: “Well… you wouldn’t have to get a job. You could just stay home and look at magazines and find things for us to buy in them.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of this. Does she think I need a job? Has Ivy joined the ranks of people who think I’ll be unqualified for anything once the kids were gone and so will be stuck looking at magazines? Does she think I would like to look at magazines all day? Has my child ever met me? And seriously, if I was looking at magazines all day, wouldn’t I be finding things for myself to buy? Unthrilled about this magazine suggestion of hers, I mentioned the possible acquisition of goats. Ivy met my life long wish for goats with her very best six year old version of well-if-you-think-so-but-that’s-actually-a-ridiculous-idea “Okaay…”

Card game over we headed out to get ourselves an ice cream treat. As I pulled out of the driveway, mind still half on my future life, Ivy, still ecstatic to be the only child for the evening, had a new game for us to play.

Ivy: “I know let’s be rock stars!”

Me: “Ok, how do we do that.”

Ivy: “Well, you just have to be really cool.”

Me: “Aren’t we already cool?”

Ivy: “Well… yeah!”

It’s true, I’ve got no blossoming career to look forward to, no dream job that was put on hold while the kids grew up. But at a moment in time where my little girl thinks I’m “really cool” the goats and magazines will have to wait.

And I’m ok with that.

I Need More Dark Chocolate

Sep12

It’s true what they say.

As my children age I am getting less intelligent.

Or as my eldest says, “YOU’RE JUST STUPID!”

Sadly that was as I was asking her to do something totally outrageous like get in the car for swim lessons and not after one of our dreaded circular conversations when it might (in a nicer manner of course) have been warranted.

Ivy has two snack times now and, my feelings on that aside, I needed some clarification on exactly how it worked.

“Do you need to bring a snack for milk break too?” I ask.

“No”,she says as she laughs, “They pass one out.”

“Oh, so you only need to bring one snack.”

“No!“, and she laughs harder shaking her head, “There are two snacks!”

“When?”

“Mom…” she laughs as she shakes her head.

“No really. When do they pass out snacks?”

“MOM! At snack time!” -giggle, giggle-

“But, then when do you eat the snack you bring?”

“At snack time!”

“So you do need to bring two snacks?”

…

And so the conversations goes round in circles while the first grader laughs at her oh-so-ridiculous-mother that doesn’t know a single thing about snack time.

Clara is more patient with me.

She knows that sometimes I just don’t get it. When that happens she raises her eyebrows, look to the heavens and says, “Actually Mom…”

Every now and then Ivy will pipe up with a gem like this: “How many ten minutes.”

And I, admittedly, panic.

It’s early in the morning. I have no idea what we are talking about. The question makes no sense to me. Is it better to pretend I didn’t hear? Or do I ask for clarification and risk the circular conversation before I’ve finished my cup of tea? Will she find my stupidity this morning amusing, frustrating or will it bring on tears?

“Actually Mom…”

“No Mom, mini-corn dogs are a healthy lunch.” Ivy says laughing at my disbelief.

“Actually Mom..”

And then Jane chimes in.

“Daddy?”

What, who me?!

“Yeah!”

“MOM!”

“Actually…”

“DADDY!”

Then, just like that, in the midst of the chaos I can practically feel it happen -poof- there goes another batch of brain cells.

Fortunately I’ve done .45 seconds worth of internet research on sub-par sites and discovered that dark chocolate is good for your brain.

Unfortunately we are out.

Somebody forgot to get more…

Santa Eyes

Jul19

I was contentedly driving down the road when from the backseat Ivy asked a question about another car’s blinker. A lovely, educational conversation ensued about blinkers, how they work and why we use them. Then, as the topic was wrapping up, Ivy asked why it was still blinking after the car turned and kept driving.

I explained how blinkers usually turn themselves off after you turn or that you turn them off so you don’t confuse people and that even if it looked like it was still blinking as it went around the corner it was probably turned back off by now.

Ivy insisted she could see that the car still had it’s blinker on.

Now by this point we had driven close to a mile away from where we had seen the car with the blinker turn and that car was going in the opposite direction. The girl could not possibly still see the car much less check on it’s blinker status. This would also be the point where a smarter mother would have realized her daughter was just looking to disagree and let it slide. But my mothering skills are a work in progress so I foolishly pointed out that she didn’t know if the blinker on the car was still on because she couldn’t see it any more.

Wrong answer Mom.

Yes, she could still see it and it’s blinker was still on. Why was it STILL on?!

Slightly irritated my response contained facts about the impossibility of her seeing the other vehicle as well as the reasoning behind the high probability that the cars blinker was off.

My mothering needed much help that day.

“MOM, I CAN SEE IT! I’ve told you a million times, I have Santa eyes!”

Her eyes see everything!

Finally napping mothering skills kicked in and I realized that I had been goaded into a pointless, losing argument by my six year old.

The only way out would be sudden distraction or acquiescence.

Look Ivy!

Turkeys!!!

French Kids Eat Everything by Karen Le Billon

May30

I’m not saying that I read this book, had a huge epiphany and now my kids eat everything.

Not- even- close.

Recently, the current six year old has chewed her food, spit it back out and then told me she couldn’t possibly eat any more because she didn’t like the parts she had already chewed on… French Kids Eat Everything by Karen Le Billon

But, I will say that my kids are eating slightly more of everything – and that’s not bad.

Would I recommend it? It’s a parenting book, I don’t recommend them on principle. My kids are not your kids, my style is not yours.

That said, I am glad I read it. While there were things about the book a didn’t like, I have attempted to be mindful of her “10 simple rules” and my kids did eat “yummy chard pie” for dinner tonight. Something that I doubt was coincidence!

Teaching Children

May17

As a parent there are so many, many things we want to teach our children.

There are many more things that we should teach them.

And then there are all the tidbits that we accidentally (and often unfortunately) teach our kids.

Sitting down and putting to much thought into this parental responsibility can become overwhelming.

Personally, I find it helps to remember that so long as you hit upon the basics:

how to care for animals…

…how to get along with others…

…and how to build a good dam… … that they are likely to turn out just fine!

Evil or Genius?

Apr3

Yesterday after dinner I came up with my most brilliant mothering move ever.

As I handed over Ivy’s chocolate Easter bunny as a reward for a clean plate I said: “Just so you know you should always let your mom eat your chocolate bunny’s ears or it’s bad luck.”

Ivy: “What do you mean bad luck?”

Me: “You’ll never find your Easter basket next year if you eat your own ears, you have to let your mom do it.”

Ivy headed back to the table chocolate bunny in hand looking thoughtful and unconvinced but moments later she was back, presenting me with her bunny so I could eat the ears for her. As she took her ear-less rabbit back to the table she explained the situation to Clara and I was gifted with another set of ears.

The Easter bunny had splurged, those were some damn fine chocolate ears.

I figure if I can keep this up for the next few years I’ll have them brainwashed before they start thinking about it too much and I’ll have three sets of chocolate ears to look forward to every year.

It could be pointed out that my girls are smart and may start questioning this “bad luck” thing. But, I would in turn point out that there are few depths that I wouldn’t sink to for some good chocolate and I have a direct line to the Easter Bunny – we can make a basket very hard to find.

Full of my great scheme (and chocolate) I told John what I had done and he called me all sorts of rotten names and threatened to out me to the kids.

Later a friend who had witnessed the brilliance of my bunny ear munching told me she was very impressed.

What do you think? Was this the most genius chocolate ear stealing scheme ever, or am I an evil chocaholic who knows no boundaries?

Being the Dad

Mar4

I’ve always thought that being a dad seemed like a good gig. As in my original post on the matter (Mother’s Day) I could elaborate on that but, out of respect for those dad’s who read this, I won’t.

John has always been a great dad. And while his daughters all love him and love doing things with him, lately something very interesting has been happening between him and his youngest girl.

When John leaves Jane cries or frantically waves goodbye over and over and over again.

When he returns Jane rushes to greet him as soon as she hears his voice.

If I’m carrying Jane through the house she will attempt to leap from my arms to his as we pass.

When John puts her to bed he sings her to sleep and she cuddles in and falls asleep in his arms in a way that she never does for me.

Recently Jane was having a bad night, a double ear infection kind of a bad night, and I had been up rocking her and singing to her and while she was settled down in my lap she wasn’t happy and she wasn’t sleeping. After awhile John came in the room to check on us, (added proof of great dad-idness). Jane crawled off my lap, crawled across the floor and pulled on his pants until he picked her up where she snuggled right into his shoulder.

Clearly I had been dismissed.

I crawled back into my own bed as I thought to myself “So, this is what it’s like to be the dad? Yup, I was right, it’s awesome!” and smiled as I fell back asleep.